The BabySitters Club: Kristy and the Vampires
by JulietBurke007
Summary: It's 1990 but the BSC is still all about friendship, teamwork, and babysitting... and slaying vampires? Turns out there's more to this club than meets the eye. Can Kristy and her friends combat the supernatural forces threatening to destroy Stoneybrook? ON HIATUS
1. Kristy and The Intruder

_Alright. This is a bit of a weird story: I'll admit it. It's basically your classic Babysitters Club with a dash of Buffy the Vampire Slayer, a pinch of The Lost Boys, and a sprinkling of Scooby Doo. Pretty much, the Babysitters Club deals with the usual social drama by day and fights off supernatural villains by night. Oh, and they babysit too XD_

_It's set in 1990, so they're now in eleventh grade. I'm going to try to include a lot of the characters mentioned in the series. Any ideas, suggestions, feel free to message me! :)_

_Enjoy!_

_Fun Fact: I named the road Hale Street after a famous Connecticut man from the Revolutionary War. Ten bonus points for whoever gets this: it's Nathan Hale! He was a spy and an epic beast, in case you were wondering._

**September 8, 1990**

**Stoneybrook, Connecticut**

**Midnight**

_Typical suburban-types. That's what they are. The Newtons are just your average suburbanites. Their comfortable Hale Street house shelters a happy, unbroken family, an organized kitchen, and a cluttered, kaleidoscopic playroom. Two adorable kids with cute, mainstream names, two kindly, hardworking parents. All they've ever inhabited is a world adorned with reasonably priced Persian rugs, quality kitchen appliances, big backyards with rickety, yellow slides, and streets lined with talkative, waving neighbors._

_Of course, all of those things don't necessarily make you a suburban dweller._

_No._

_The Newtons are your average, suburban, professional, charitable, moderate, airheads because they're always leaving the goddamn door unlocked. Their windows ajar: silky curtains constantly rustled by the intruding breeze. Their burglar alarm turned defiantly off._

_It's not carelessness. It's not forgetfulness. It's not stupidity, failing to establish the appropriate security measures. It's arrogance. Haughtiness that you only ever see in the suburbs._

"_Not in this neighborhood. Nothing bad will happen in this neighborhood," they think, "I paid good money for this neighborhood. I paid good money for these rugs, these appliances, for these yards, for these neighbors. For these kids. I work my ass off all day in the office, hospital, town hall, law firm, boardroom, to pay for the sprawling bills, decent education, crippling taxes, and ubiquitous comforts._

"_I pay for this suburb with my time, money, and life," they tell themselves, "It'd better be safe."_

_They are so hopelessly, arrogantly assured. "Nothing will happen," they tell each other, as they fling open their windows and doors, beckoning in the unknown, "What could happen?"_

_Well._

_I could._

Grotesque mouth dripping with starvation, the creature slips in through the unlocked back door. It has been staking out this particular residence for several nights now. It can wait no longer. Tonight is the perfect opportunity to strike; the household is vulnerable and unguarded. The parents are away, out sipping sparkly glasses and swapping drunken anecdotes at a company cocktail party. The two kids, a little boy and a littler girl, are upstairs in bed.

The creature glances about. It is lurking in some sort of mudroom, a colorful legion of scuffed shoes lines the walls. From this vantage point, it can see directly into the living room, where a rerun of _Murder, She Wrote_, is playing on the sizable television set. On the couch lies a figure draped in a quilt. Two Converse sneakers poke out from one end of the blanket, a red baseball cap protrudes from the other.

The sleeping form is the babysitter; the creature had watched her arrive several long hours earlier. She had loudly conversed with the Newtons before dashing off to play games with the giddy children. At a reasonable hour, she had put them to bed. After flipping through a magazine for a while, she had reclined on the couch. _Big mistake_. In a matter of minutes, she was out cold from boredom and inactivity. It smirks, shaking its head at her incompetent slumber.

_Quis custodiet ipsos custodes?_

Alas, her unprofessionalism will only make things easier. And more filling.

_Three people in one night. _It salivates at the prospect. _Things haven't been that good since… well, since Milwaukee._

Movements distinctively inhuman, the creature stalks over to the couch, grasping the blanket that shrouds the soon-to-be-dead babysitter. Tongue drooping in anticipation, it yanks the cover away to rip into….

…Several strategically placed cushions. Not a startled, drowsy girl. The shoes and hat are unoccupied; the whole thing was a decoy. _She knows something's wrong_, it realizes, _She must have heard the backdoor opening. _Growling, the hungry beast grins.

_Poor dear, she must be frightened._

A crashing sound emits from the next room causing the creature's sensitive ears to prickle. Treading with surprising grace, it slips into the butter-yellow kitchen.

"Did you really think you could play hide and seek with me, little girl?" it whispers, horrible voice raspy. Lupine eyes flicker to a slightly ajar closet door. "Don't you _know_ what I am?"

"Please. Go away," implores a hysterical voice, from the depths of the closet, "Don't hurt the kids. Please…" The girl begins to weep, panicking.

"Are you afraid, honey?"

"Go away, leave me alone …"

"You're crying. Good. You _should_ be. This is going to hurt." Howling with perverse delight, the creature swings the closet door open. "Peek-a-boo."

"No! Please!" begs the tape-recorder, desperately. The gadget has been carefully placed atop an overturned bucket in the center of the closet. "Stop it! Get away!"

"What the hell?" the creature snatches up the device. Furious, it squeezes the black square, snapping it into a hundred sharp, twisted fragments, silencing the trembling pleas. A deafening blast bursts through the quiet kitchen. The creature freezes, feeling a small twinge in its neck. A small object tears into a box of Cheerios on the shelf, causing the cardboard package to partially explode.

Whirling around, it faces the Converse-less, hatless babysitter, squinting determinedly through the smoke. Her expression is stony; in her hand she expertly aims a large handgun.

"You shot me," it wheezes, in disbelief. Blood spurts from the gaping wound in the creature's thick neck. Ripping into the damaged box of Cheerios, it digs around before procuring the bloody bullet that had traveled through its throat and into the cereal box. "You fucking shot me."

"You broke my tape recorder," she retorts, icily. The creature lunges, swiping the gun from her hands and knocking her to the tiled floor. Vision blurring, it grabs the babysitter by the shirt collar, slamming her into the far wall. Dazed, she slowly slumps to the ground.

"Silly girl, you can't _kill_ me!" the monster roars, menacingly baring its teeth. "I'm immortal! A toy like that won't harm _me_, you fool, you'd need—""

"Silver bullets?" the smirking girl offers, retrieving a bulging zip-loc baggie from her sweater pocket. Eyes bulging, the creature glances down at the stained bullet in its palm. Flecks of silver sparkle from behind the ruby red coat of blood. The lupine eyes widen, the bullet clatters to the tiled floor.

The beast shudders involuntarily, hurling itself at the babysitter, claws aiming for her throat. She expertly dodges the dying charge, although the mortally wounded creature does succeed in heavily pinning her to the wall with its dead body.

"Shit," the fifteen-year-old hisses, attempting to disentangle herself from the corpse. "Damnit…"

"Ah! Kristy!" a soft voice squeaks. Kristy winces, half-expecting Jamie or Lucy to be standing there at the kitchen door, scarred for life by the traumatizing sight of their babysitter stuck under a bleeding werewolf cadaver. She glances up, fears dispelled. It's only Mary Anne, pale and worried. As usual.

"So much for back up," Kristy huffs, as her friend frees her from the hairy beast's dying embrace. "What took you so long?"

"Blame Stacey, not me," Mary Anne deflects, quietly, "_She_ was supposed to be on auxiliary duty tonight, but she had to go into the city. She called me at the last minute. When you phoned me for backup, my dad had already gone to bed. I had to sneak out the window to get here, he'll _kill_ me if he finds out."

"Kristy?" a child's scared, sleepy voice echoes through the house. The three-year-old Lucy Newton is sitting up in her bed, having been awoken by the fight. "W-what was that?"

"Lucy?" her brother Jamie calls, "What's wrong?"

"Shit, the kids," Kristy hisses, glancing about the bloody kitchen, "I'll be right back." The babysitter scrambles away, sprinting up the stairs to comfort and lie to her distraught, groggy charges.

"I'll start cleaning up," Mary Anne mutters to herself. "As usual…" One bottle of Pine-Sol, two drenched mops, and thirty long minutes later, she and Kristy are standing out in the scraggly patch of woods behind the Newton house. They are hovering over a large metal drum, their faces eerily illuminated by its blazing contents.

"That's the second werewolf I've dealt with this week," Kristy observes, blankly. "What the heck are they all coming _here_ for? I mean, we must get more monsters in Stoneybrook than anywhere else in the country!"

"I don't know about that," Mary Anne says, gently, "Dawn seems to think that there's a large enclave of warlocks in Palo City…"

"Dawn's on drugs," Kristy mutters, dismissive of Mary Anne's sometimes spacey, "individualistic" step sister.

"_Kristy_!"

"What? She is!"

"Lay off Dawn!" Mary Anne demands. "She is _not_!"

"Fine."

"Ugg. Someone's gonna see or hear us and call the cops," Mary Anne insists, glancing about nervously.

"We'll just tell them we're having a bonfire," Kristy suggests, beginning to roast marshmallows over the roaring flames. "Besides, this is a necessary precaution. I read somewhere that dead werewolves can be resurrected as vampires if you don't cremate them. And we gotta get rid of the evidence."

"I think we did a pretty good job cleaning up the kitchen," Mary Anne notes, proudly. "The Newtons will never know that a Type Two Werewolf broke in and tried to eat their kids."

"That's the idea," Kristy agrees. The two friends share a knowing look and begin to laugh hysterically.

"We are getting _way_ too old for this," Mary Anne giggles. Kristy's expression hardens at this statement.

"Don't say that." Frowning, she watches the flames. "We _can't_ be too old for this, Mary Anne. We're not just baby—"

"—sitters, we're protectors. Stoneybrook _needs_ us," Mary Anne finishes, quietly. "I know, I know. I was just joking, Kris." The two best friends share an uncertain pause. Mary Anne wrinkles her nose, disgusted as Kristy produces a Hershey's bar and some graham crackers from her pocket. "Kristy Thomas. Are you making smores over… over a burning _werewolf_ corpse?"

"Want one?" Kristy offers, obnoxiously munching the sticky snack.

"_Ew,_ _no_! That is gross. Ugg. So what's the deal with Jamie and Lucy? Did they hear anything? Are they okay?"

"Lucy heard the gunshot," Kristy explains, casually. "Jamie heard Lucy wake up. I just told them that it was from a Western movie I was watching when I accidentally turned the volume up really loud."

"Good save."

"Thank you. They bought it, they were too sleepy to be skeptical." Kristy blinks at the blazing werewolf body burning in the drum. "How long did the AP English homework take you?"

"Not long. You just had to do the first five pages of that questions packet. You didn't do it yet?"

"Naw, I'll just finish it during lunch."

"Oh man," Mary Anne checks her wristwatch, "It's one o'clock… I'd better get back home or I'll fall asleep first block!"

"Alright," Kristy waves as her nervous friend rushes away, sprinting home, "See ya tomorrow!"

"See ya!"

After the roaring fire sputters out, Kristy scatters the ashes about the patch of trees. Then, discarding the metal drum, she hurries back inside. It is superb timing. The Newtons are just pulling into the driveway. By the time Kristy has hopped back on the couch, they are entering the house.

"Hello!" Slightly tipsy, Mrs. Newton totters into the living room. Keys jingling in her hand, she hurries over to Kristy "How was everything?"

"Sorry we're late!" Mr. Newton apologizes, wryly. Mr. Newton was clearly the night's designated driver, the babysitter reasons, for he is significantly more sober than his wife.

"Wonderful, Mrs. Newton," Kristy beams, "And no problem at all, Mr. Newton, I hadn't even noticed."

"Ooh, we have to pay you!" Mrs. Newton remembers, dizzily, "Follow me!" Giggling, she stumbles into the kitchen.

"The kids are in bed?" Mr. Newton asks, hopefully.

"Yes," Kristy assures him.

"Did they eat their dinners?"

"Yep. They finished off the whole pizza!"

"Here you are. There's a little extra in there, because we were late. And because the kids just _adore_ you. Jamie especially." Winking, Mrs. Newton thrusts an envelope containing the appropriate payment into Kristy's hands. As the woman is speaking, Kristy notices the silver bullet, encrusted in red, lying where the werewolf had dropped it. On the floor. Right next to Mr. Newton's shoe. The babysitter's eyes widen. _Oh shit. How the hell did we miss that during the clean up?_

"Oops!" Kristy purposefully drops the envelope, quickly bending over to scoop it (and the bullet) up off the tiles.

"There was no major trouble, I trust?" Mr. Newton inquires, yawning.

"No, Mr. Newton." The babysitter smiles, knowingly. Discreetly, she slips the silver bullet into her pocket. "No trouble at all."


	2. Mal and The Secret

**September 8, 1990**

**Stoneybrook High School, Stoneybrook, Connecticut**

**2:58 PM**

"_We have to band together if we're going to defeat these vampires," the girl whispered, eyes sparkling with determination. "This city is depending on us. We'll just have to work together…"_

"Ugg." Mallory Pike groans at her own cliché-saturated writing. She is currently slumped over a lab table in Chemistry class, protective goggles encasing her dorky glasses. Bored out of her mind, she is brainstorming ideas for a new story instead of focusing on the assignment at hand. _Why did I sign up for Advanced Placement Chemistry anyways?_ Mal laments this academic decision; she is an intelligent girl but her true strengths lie in the liberal arts, not the sciences. She jots down some more exceedingly fleeting thoughts, outlining a basic plot involving a heroine and her companions battling occult threats.

_-Vampires_

_-Werewolves_

_-Witches_

_-Warlocks_

_-Monsters_

_-Attacking the town_

_-Friends fight them off, save people and the town_

_-Keep adventures secret_

Mallory examines her eclectic list and frowns. _Vampires? Monsters? It all seems so outdated. Stoker and Shelley had done it well, but that was back in the day. Today, such topics constituted cheesy horror-gothic junk. Not material for a serious writer. _Frustrated by her own lack of creativity, Mal brushes the paper aside, struggling to come up with a more mature tale.

"_Mal_…"

_Maybe a book about a girl trying to write a book in science class… _

"Mal! _The Bunsen burner_!"

_No. Too boring. _

"Mallory Pike! You're on fire!"

"Huh?" Mal looks up, with vague interest.

"YOUR HAIR IS ON FIRE!" Kristy screams, frantically pointing from across the room. Mallory blinks and dares to glance at her hair. Sure enough, several strands have been partially set alight by the flickering Bunsen burner set on the table before her. Breath stopping, palms prickling, a frozen Mal does nothing. Kristy, however, thinks on her feet. She snatches a large beaker of water off a nearby table, sprints over to her petrified friend, and splashes it over her head. Mal sputters, vision blurred by her drenched glasses lenses. She glances at the singed ends of her frizzy red hair in utter disbelief.

"GOT IT!" Kristy announces, brightly. She takes a hammy bow as the class applauds; snickering fills the room.

"Thank you, Miss Thomas. Miss Pike!" the Chemistry teacher snips, "I must ask you to be more careful in this class. We are handling dangerous equipment here and you must be paying attention at all times."

"S-sorry," the soaked girl manages. The bell rings. _Thank God,_ thinks Mal as she dries off her glasses.

"Alright, that's all the time we have. Class dismissed."

"Thanks, Kristy," Mallory smiles, weakly.

"No problem, Mal!" The Junior grins broadly. "The flames were probably just attracted by your fiery locks." Kristy guffaws at her own lame ginger-joke. "Also, don't forget, Pike. Meeting today, usual time."

"Alright, I'll be there." Mal struggles to keep the hesitation from her voice as she power walks out of the science room.

"Miss Thomas, may I talk to you for a moment?" the Chemistry teacher asks. Kristy hurries over to him, slinging her bag across her shoulder.

"What's up, Mr. Chesterton?"

"I just finished grading your summer work, that paper on Trigonal bipyramidal molecular geometry."

"Oh God…Was is alright? Did I fail? I kinda rushed it I'm sorry if it came out horrible—"

"Horrible? Kristy, it was fantastic!"

"Really?"

"It was quite insightful. The work of a Chemistry scholar."

"Thanks, Mr. Chesterton!" Kristy beams. "I guess I've always kinda liked science a bit…"

"Would you consider joining the science club? You could participate in research projects, even enter in science fair."

"Well…"

"I assure you it's not a second rate organization. We've had students win prestigious national awards and scholarships. We meet most days after school."

"I'm sorry, Mr. Chesterton. I just can't swing it."

"Really? Why not?"

"I've got too much on my plate. Softball practice, homework."

"One of your classmates, Bart Taylor, also participates in afterschool sports." Kristy flinches slightly at the mention of this particular student. "The science club doesn't interfere with his schedule."

"Yeah, but unlike Bart I've also got babysitting."

"Babysitting?" The teacher appears surprised.

"Yep. It's a pretty big time commitment, takes up a lot of my afternoons. So I'm sorry, Mr. Chesterton, but I just couldn't handle another thing. My brain would explode or something. Sorry."

"It's alright, I understand that you have a busy schedule. Junior year can be quite stressful."

"Boy, you got that right." Kristy grabs her backpack, glancing back. "Hey! Mal forgot her worksheet!"

"Oh dear, she did seem rather distracted in class today."

"That's Mal for you! Great kid, but kinda spacey at times. I'll be seeing her later; I'll give it to her then. See ya, Mr. C!"

"Be seeing you, Miss Thomas."

Kristy saunters into the swarming hallway, glancing over Mal's worksheet. After giggling over her incorrect, half-hearted calculations, her eyes drift over a certain list.

_-Vampires_

_-Werewolves_

_-Witches_

_-Warlocks_

_-Monsters_

_-Attacking the town_

_-Friends fight them off, save people and the town_

_-Keep adventures secret_

Kristy frowns, standing still in the congested halls. Students flow around her, eager to reach their lockers at the end of the long day. For Kristy, the long day is only beginning…

"Kristy, you okay?" It's Claudia, strolling towards her friend, glittery, ripped snowman sweatshirt attracting several bemused glances. Her eyes, encircled with electric blue eyeliner, are filled with concern for her frozen friend.

"Read." Kristy thrusts the paper into her artistic friends hands. "It's Mal's."

"Her Chemistry worksheet?" Claudia frowns. She strokes her chin, sarcastically. "Electron configuration. Fascinating."

"Read what she wrote at the bottom."

"Whoa." Claudia's outlined eyes widen.

"Yeah."

"Oh. My. Lord. Do… do you think she _knows_?" Claudia whispers, cautiously. "About what we _really_ do…."

"Well, this implies that she does. Witches. Vampires. She's got the details down. She must know what… well, what's _really_ going on with the BSC. And if Mal knows, you can bet Jessi does too."

"What should we do?" The artsy girl bites her lip, anxiously.

"Recruit 'em. Not just for babysitting. For real this time." Kristy folds the worksheet, placing it in her jacket pocket. "What else _can_ we do?"

* * *

"This meeting of the BSC will now come to order," announced Kristy. She is perched precariously on the director's chair, visor shielding her eyes, pencil stuck over her ear. She stares hard at the notebook in her lap.

"Anything wrong, Kristy?" Jessi asks, brow furrowing. The Club President for life appears somewhat more tense than usual.

"Everything's great." Kristy's smile is obviously forced. "Just _fantastic_." Mary Anne raises her eyebrows, bewildered by her friend's artificial cheer.

There is a nasty pause.

"Alright, let's fill up the treasury." Stacey flips her long blonde hair out of her face, producing the dreaded envelope from her purse. Obediently, everyone deposits the required club dues.

"So, guys, I have some pretty big news," Mary Anne pipes up, suddenly.

"You and Logan are getting back together?" Claudia guesses, happily.

"WHAT?" Mary Anne wails, horrified. "No! No!"

"Way to go, Claud," Kristy smirks, "You're in direct violation of Article Three, Clause Seven of the Logan Bruno Embargo, banning and prohibiting the mention of Mr. Bruno and his past affiliation with Miss Spier at all BSC meetings and functions." Mary Anne holds her head in her hands, clearly traumatized by the brief remark concerning her old boyfriend. She and Logan have shared a sometimes-turbulent relationship over the years. Ever since middle school, they've been on again, off again. Recently, as summer vacation entered its twilight weeks, just when their relationship began looking up, Logan had suddenly and inexplicably dumped Mary Anne. Just like that. A sensitive romantic, she had been utterly devastated by the abrupt and unprecedented break up.

"Never… again," Mary Anne sniffs, glaring at Claudia.

"Wishful thinking, sorry…." the instigator of controversy throws her hands up, defensively. "What? I'm _definitely_ not the only one here who thought they were cute together!"

"_Not….happening," _Mary Anne hisses, eyes widening. "No. I have a much _better_ surprise."

A ringing noise blares through Claudia's room, leaving everyone in suspense. Jessi lunges for the phone, beating out Kristy and Stacey in the dash to answer.

"Hello, Babysitters Club," she says, politely, "Yes…. Yes… hello, Mr. Perkins. Of course. Certainly. I'll call you right back." She hangs up. "That was Mr. Perkins. He needs a sitter for tonight at eight o'clock."

"Lemme see." Mary Anne flips open her notebook. "Kristy you're free. So are Jessi and Mal…"

"Kristy, you can take this one," Jessi offers, quickly.

"Yeah, I have a History paper due tomorrow, I'm going to have to work on that tonight," Mal lies.

"Thanks!" Kristy grins, as Jessi dials the Perkinses number. "Hello there, Mr. Perkins. Kristy'll be there at eight tonight. Great… thank you. Have a nice day!"

"So… what is your surprise for us?" Stacey inquires, staring curiously at Mary Anne.

"Dawn… is…coming…back."

"Yay!" nearly everyone choruses.

"Oh that's fantastic!" Stacey cheers.

"Is she going to stay this time?" Claudia asks, munching on a Snickers bar.

"Yep!" Mary Anne says, sounding pleased.

"_Great_," Kristy mutters, less enthusiastically, "Why?"

"And when?" Claudia demands.

"She'll be arriving a few days. She says she needs a change of pace. Plus, apparently Stoneybrook High is a better school than Palo City High. Her parents want her to graduate here."

"That's awesome!" Stacey declares, "We should all go to meet her at the airport!"

"We can throw her a 'Welcome Back Party' too!" Mal suggests.

"She'd love that," Mary Anne smiles quietly.

"I can't wait to see her!" Claudia exclaims, "She was so chill last time she visited. We could definitely use some of that California coolness around here."

"All right, all right," Kristy interrupts, "Can we get back to business, please?"

No one hears her as the excited chattering develops into a chaotic din. Much to the Club President's disdain, the remainder of the meeting is spent planning Dawn's much-anticipated return…

"What is this, the Babysitters Club or the Dawn Schafer Welcoming Committee," Kristy mutters, as she and the others file out of the Kishi residence. Farewells are exchanged as everyone hurries home. Kristy digs into her pockets, searching for the car keys she somehow convinced her mother to loan her. Her fingers brush over Mal's chemistry worksheet. Eyes widening, she sprints to catch up with Mal and Jessi, who are marching down the sidewalk.

"Guys! Wait!"

"What's up, Kristy?" Jessi asks her huffing friend.

"We need to talk," the President says, strictly. "There's something serious I must discuss with you two."

"What is it?" Mal frowns, worried by Kristy's stern tone, "Is something the matter?"

"Well… how do I explain this?" Kristy frowns, deep in thought, "_I know_."

"You know what?" Mal and Jessi ask.

"I know that _you know_."

"You know that we know _what_?" Mal inquires, mystified.

"Ahh, playing dumb, are we?" Kristy muses, oblivious to their obliviousness, "Well, I think I can fix that."

"What?" Jessi crosses her arms, "Kristy, what on earth do you mean?"

"Why don't you two come with me tonight, and I'll show you," Kristy suggests, slyly, "Help me babysit for the Perkins kids tonight. You'll find out."

"But, my History paper!" Mal blurts out.

"Mallory Pike. You and I both know that Miss Wright announced that she was going to be absent tomorrow and therefore extended the due date for the summer paper for Advanced History." Mal's eyes widen at Kristy's revealing deduction. "BUSTED!" The President cackles, somewhat manically. "Listen, our job is important. Maybe you don't realize this. Our job is essential! If you see what we _really_ do, maybe you'll appreciate that." Mal and Jessi stare at her, baffled. "So are you guys coming tonight?"

"I guess," Jessi says, without enthusiasm.

"Fine." Mal blinks, ruse unraveled.

"HUZZAH!" Kristy jumps up, elated. "See you guys at eight!" She starts to take off, only to stop and turn back. "Bring some garlic, would you?"

"Garlic?" Mal tilts her head. "Why garlic?"

"_You'll see_!" is the singsong reply.


	3. Kristy and The Recruits

September 8, 1990

Perkins Residence, Stoneybrook, Connecticut

9:00 PM

"Hand me some of that garlic, stat!" Voice brimming with urgency, Kristy stretches out her arm. Tentatively, Jessi gives her friend the vegetable. Whipping out a large carving knife, Kristy expertly slices up the herb and brushes it into a simmering concoction.

"Really, Kris?" Mal frowns. "That's why you had me schlep all this garlic over here? For pizza?"

"Mm. Makes the sauce zestier," Kristy professes, stirring vigorously, "Right kids?" The Perkins children, enthralled by the prospect of home made pizza for dinner, cheer her culinary decision as they race about the cluttered kitchen. Kristy chuckles, maddeningly. "Gee, Mal. _Why else_ would I ask you to bring over garlic?" The babysitter's eyes scrutinize her friend's bewildered expression, searching for a reaction. "Did you have some other potential use in mind?"

"No…what is that supposed to mean?" Mal whispers, grabbing a dishtowel and wiping some spilled flour off the floor. Kristy Thomas simply shrugs.

"Alright, Kristy," Jessi hisses, under her breath. "Why exactly did you drag us out here? Not to give us a freakin' cooking lesson, I hope."

"What, you don't like pizza?" With a cryptic smile, Kristy bustles over to the fridge. "You guys got any steak?" she mutters, beginning to violently root about the icebox.

"Steak doesn't go on pizza!" one of their perceptive charges informs her. Jessi groans, frustrated by the President's increasingly odd behavior. Discreetly, she gestures for Mal to follow her out of the kitchen, into the dimly lit family room.

"What is going on with her?" Mal removes her thick glasses, wiping a white spattering of flour off the lenses. "This is weird, even for Kristy."

"Tell me about it," Jessi mutters, "She practically forces us to come babysitting tonight and then acts all strange about it—"

"Do you think—" Mal appears horrified.

"She knows we're going to quit?" Jessi finishes, dryly. "Maybe."

"That _would_ explain the manic-depressive behavior. Maybe this is her way of trying to convince us to stay in the club."

"Well, if that's her plan, it's definitely _not_ working," Jessi notes.

"Amen to that. I say we tell her that we're going to quit tonight. Might save everyone trouble, if we just get it over with."

"Yeah." Jessi sighs, slumping into an armchair. "I feel kinda bad though."

"Me too."

"I mean, when I found out the club was reuniting after all those years, I was kinda excited about it."

"Yeah!" Mal nods. "I was kind of surprised that Kristy decided to resurrect it. I mean I had known that everyone continued to babysit after 8th grade. But it seemed like the club itself had kinda broken up. Everyone had sort of dropped out, myself included. But when I came back to Stoneybrook, everything was back to normal."

"Right. In my case, I was kinda broke so I rejoined. It was great to hang out with the old gang again."

"Same here!"

"But here we are, still at the bottom of the pecking order! I mean it's been how many years? And we're still Junior Officers? Talk about lame. Well, I can take a hint. Plus, the whole thing's become too time consuming. Even more so than the first time! If Kristy had really wanted to restart the BSC, she should've allowed someone else to be President. Someone less… possessive…"

"Stubborn," Mal suggests.

"_Insane_," Jessi snickers.

"Ooh, who's insane?" Grinning wildly, Kristy bursts into the dark room. Her hands are horrifyingly drenched in red. Startled, Mal and Jessi scream. The President stares at them, bewildered. "Calm down you guys, I just spilled some of the sauce. I'll go wash my hands if it upsets you that much… geez! What neat freaks!" Cackling, she saunters off, leaving the two mutinous Junior Officers anxiously glancing at each other.

* * *

"Bye, Mr. Perkins!" Kristy calls from the sidewalk, waving. The Perkinses have just returned from their outing, making sure to overpay and thank the departing trio. "See ya, kids!"

"Bye Kristy—Mal—Jessi!" the children cheerfully yell back as their babysitters walk off into the night.

"Bye girls," Mr. Perkins smiles, gratefully. "Thanks so much for stopping by."

"No problem at all, Mr. P! Give us a call if you ever need any more sitters." Kristy smiles to herself, as the girls amble around a dim corner. "Alright, so who's driving?"

"Who's driving?" Mal gapes. "Kristy, you're the only one here with a license!"

"I thought you said you'd give us rides home!" Jess adds, accusingly.

"Well, I don't have a car with me, so I can't give you guys a ride. I suppose we'll just have to take a midnight stroll through these here eerie woods," Kristy notes, gesturing about the dark forest path they are currently turning onto. It's a shortcut to the side of Stoneybrook where they all live, a scary, tangled path leading back to civilization. "Yep. That's what's happening right now. Just a couple of naïve high school girls…. walking through a creepy wilderness at night. Alone. At risk. What could happen?"

"Thanks for making me feel like we're in a horror movie." Mal shivers, despite the mild night breeze. Jessi mutters something unintelligible.

"What was that Jess?" Kristy inquires.

"I don't know, Kristy. _What is this?_" Jessi retorts, glaring at the President.

"What is what?"

"You've been acting so weird tonight! It's really bizarre!" Mal exclaims, waving her hands. Sighing, she adds, "Maybe this is a good time to tell you…"

"Tell me what?" The President's eyes gleam, mischievously.

"We know. We know that you know that—"

"I know."

"You know?"

"I know that you know that I know."

"Wait, what?" Jessi interjects.

"You know that we know that…. you know?"

"Yeah, you know?"

"I—I…" Mal stammers.

"I know all about it, Mal."

"WHAT?" Jessi shouts, irritated by this bewildering discussion. "WHAT ARE WE EVEN TALKING ABOUT?"

"I'm sorry, have I not been clear?" Kristy asks, suavely. "Listen, I can tell you guys are pissed about not being included. It's probably been pretty frustrating. You're tormented by the whole secret; I get that. You're probably dying to get in on the action."

"Well, being Junior Officers after all these years is pretty degrading," Mal interrupts, "But I'd hardly say I'm tormented—"

"Say no more, say no more!" Kristy shushes her. "No need to keep pretending. I found your worksheet, Mal. The one you wrote all over." The President removes the crucial document from her pocket and waves it about, urgently.

"Ummm." Mal gingerly accepts the crumpled up paper. "Thanks. I must have left in Chem…"

"Yes. Well, I learned a lot from it." Kristy nods, vigorously. "A LOT!"

"What the hell are you on about?" Jessi demands.

"Maybe things will start to click once Mal notices that her backpack is dripping."

"M-my backpack is WHAT?" Mal struggles to disentangle her arms from the straps, dropping the bag in question to the ground. Sure enough, drops of liquid are seeping through the thin fabric. "AHHHHH!"

"What the hell?" Jessi jumps back. "What did you put in there, Kristy?"

"Please tell me it's not a severed head," Mal wails, near tears, "Oh my God! That backpack's new! My mom'll kill me if it's been stained by a severed head!"

"Don't worry! It's steak!" Kristy gleefully removes a scarlet slab of meet from the knapsack. "Raw steak!" Jessi stares at her with wide, baffled eyes.

"Get ready to run," the dancer whispers to her fellow Junior Officer.

"Offhand, are you a serial killer?" Mal whimpers. "Is part of your modus operandi or something? Oh my God. The Stoneybrook Steak Slayer."

"Hmmm. You're close." Kristy nods, as a hungry pair of glowing retinas glows in the treetops above. Suddenly, a twitching, snarling blur of gray fur descends upon the girls. Before Mal and Jessi even get the chance to scream, Kristy is in the air, brandishing a massive firearm. The air seems to explode about the forest; there is a wild shriek as the dying, massive form crashes back to the earth. Kristy fires at the werewolf again, just to make certain that it's dead. Without warning, Logan Bruno and Stacey McGill are on the scene, dutifully dousing the dead beast in gasoline. Kristy casually flicks out and tosses a match, stepping back as the carcass is incinerated. Jessi and Mal clutch each other, quaking with fear. Stacey, Kristy, and Logan stand by casually, looking nearly like a few bored teens at a homecoming bonfire. They seem to have forgotten about their terrified companions. Finally, the Club President smirks at the two, confidently. "You can take out the Stoneybrook Steak part. I'm just a Slayer."


End file.
